 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Worth Fighting For by DevilsInjector
|
Worth Fighting For; CH 1: Farewell
Date: 7 December 2008, 6:08 pm
0430 Hours, November 12, 2545
The Dead End Bar, Chicago portion of The Zone,
Planet Earth
Arther Conlin brought the glass to his lips, and took a drink for the amber colored liquor within. He placed it down with a clink. "So Steve, how often do you go off planet?" Arther asked. The bartender looked up from the cash register,
"I don't, I stick around 'ere and do some of the recruiting."
"That doesn't sound too exciting."
Steve chuckled, "Its not, but it sure as hell stops me from getting my ass blown off!"
Arther took another drink from his glass, and then popped some of the ice in his mouth. "Yeah… that seems like a good deal." Arther, just turning 22, has thought it over a lot. He'd enlist tomorrow. There's gotta be more to this, he'd always say to himself. He downed the liquor and threw the money on the counter. "G'night Steve." He said, as he meandered out of the bar.
A cold breeze blew the tail of his coat up, away from his body. He stumbled down the street, almost running over homeless man, sleeping amongst some garbage bags. The 4 glasses of whiskey weren't doing anything for warmth, so he tucked his coat around himself, and buttoned up the collar strap, clumsily.
He stopped walking, and turned around. Three teenagers, we're harassing the homeless man. "H-hey," he yelled, "Leave him alone will ya?" He walked up and pulled the tallest of the three off the man, and shoved him towards the road.
"Hey, what the fuck d'ya think you're doin'?" the teenager asked. Arther turned towards him, but hesitated. The teen had a knife out, and was advancing on him. Arther stood a little straighter, and shoved his chest out a bit. This only produced chuckles from the teens – Arther, being 6'1 and 160 pounds, was not a very imposing figure – and caused them to circle around him.
One of the teens had 4 rings on his right hand, and one had a pair of brass knuckles. Rings, was the first to take a swing. Maybe, if he was not drunk, Arther would have noticed this, but failed to in his current inebriated state. The blow connected with his nose, and sent him to his knees.
Knuckles, straight kicked him in the ribs, and Arther rolled with the blow, slowly coming to his feet.
Knifes took a lunge and luckily for Arther, the pain kept him alert, and he sidestepped the attack and snapped the teens arm up and back, causing the knife to clatter to the concrete. Using his arm for leverage, he brought the teens face down, and slammed it off his knee. He threw him to the ground. Knuckles hesitated, turned and ran off down the street, while Rings helped his fallen comrade to his feet and in turn, they too ran off.
The homeless man stirred, "Taught them punks a lesson," He stood and brushed the dirt off his tattered clothes (not that it helped much), "Thanks." Arther dug deep into his coat pocket and handed the man a twenty, and walked off. He heard the man holler something, but a strong gust of wind bellowed at his eardrums. Arther raised a hand to his face, trying to shoo away the cold and only just noticed that he was bleeding.
He looked at the street sign, and grunted in approval. Good, he thought to himself, only a block from home. He quickly shuffled off, and turned the next corner. He double stepped up to his walk in apartment and thumbed the security switch. A quick fingerprint check, and the door opened. Up a flight of steps and a left turn put him right in front of his door. This time, he fumbled for a key and pushed it into the lock.
He turned the handle and the door opened. Arther threw his coat over the back of the sofa, and walked to the bathroom, all the while stripping off various articles of clothing, checking for blood. He tossed the dirty clothes into the hamper, and looked in the mirror.
His hair was a mess, and he was smeared with blood. He turned on the taps, and waited for the heat to build up, then dropped a facecloth in the water, and added a generous amount of soap as well.
He reached for the cloth, recoiled for a second, and snatched it out of the water. He scrubbed away at his face, and then brought it up over the top of his head, wetting his hair. He eyed the tattoo along his hairline, a cover up for an age-old scar, compliments of a rowdy drunk high school student. Arther banished the day from his mind and went to work getting a shower ready.
As he waited for heat, he eyed the thick strand of electric blue through his hair in the already rapidly fogging mirror. Though still visible, the roots were starting to show, he'd need to get it touched up. He quietly laughed to himself as he thought about the day he'd gotten it dyed. And how people in the street looked at him so strangely. It was not normal for a man to dye his hair anymore, and the select few who did, were criticized for it.
He slowly turned and slid into the shower. The hot water relaxed him, as he washed out his hair and lathered his body, but also made him rather tired. He turned off the water, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around himself.
"Damn," he said as he stepped into his living room/kitchen area, "What a friggin' mess." He hadn't cleaned his house in 2 weeks, and it was starting to clutter. He knew if he cleaned it too much though, he'd never find anything ever again. He slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and fell over the arm of the couch.
He turned on the T.V, to the news channel. Within five minutes of turning it on, reports were coming in about these so-called "Spartans" and ANOTHER successful ground battle. He'd heard so much about these Spartans since they revealed them years ago. Though, other than pictures, he'd never seen one. He turned to the music channel, and drifted off to sleep.
He awoke hours later, as the coffee machine turned on, with its alarm and welcoming aroma of "Jack Daniels Irish Cream Coffee Mix". He stood up, and stretched, shuffled to the mail slot, and picked up the notices and flyers. He looked towards the door, and noticed a letter stuck in the slot. He picked it out; it read "UNSC, what WE can do for YOU!" "Woohoo, who gives a shit." He'd gotten sick and tired of the propaganda. He'd enlist – like he was going to today – in his own sweet time. He picked up a remote and turned on the radio, the weather blared from the speakers, and he promptly turned it down. "Lovely day today folks, 7 and sunny, but it feels like 10. Don't forget to bundle up! And now, a word from our local UNSC spokesperson…" Arther quickly turned it off.
He'd heard the message twenty times, and didn't plan on hearing it again. The spokespersons voice grated in your head. He made a thermos of coffee, walked into his room and started to get dressed. He picked from the only two colors he wore (black and white), and dressed.
He pulled a coat out of the closet, and proceeded to the door. He grabbed his keys on the way out.
Arther walked down the steps, around to the driver's side of the car, tapped in a code on the panel next to the door, and climbed in. He thumbed the ignition, and the car sputtered to life. "Were is the closest drug store?" The on-board computer checked, and said aloud, "Wilkinson and son's; 12 blocks north." Arther put on his seatbelt, "Drive." The car pulled out and drove off down the street.
Arther placed the thermos in the cup holder, and looked out the window in thought. A couple ran down the street after two rowdy boys, and a older man struggled to get up the incline, until a younger man walked up and helped.
His son perhaps, or maybe one of the few good people left in Chicago. Well you can't really call it that anymore, its "The Zone" now, but the people inhabiting The Zone, still call themselves American.
Arther was not "American", but then again no one was, so he did not see why it mattered. They were part of the UN now. The Zone was created years back, to prevent inter-planetary conflicts (gangs, mafia; everything along those lines) but was more so created to prevent a rebellion.
But instead of SMALL gangs, we have one BIG gang. Instead of MULTIPLE mafias, we have one LARGE mafia. So it didn't really help. A chorus of beeps jostled Arther from his normally peaceful thoughts. "Answer." He muttered.
The face of a pretty woman popped up on the screen of the on-board computer, when she saw Arther's features her brow furrowed, and her smile turned to a frown. "Hiya grumpy, you don't look so good." she said. Arther looked at the screen. Good, he thought, she's in her car. "Meredith, meet me at the Wilkinson drug store," he said, "Ill be waiting in my car."
She slowly nodded, recognizing the name and place. "Okay… I love you Arther," she said cheerily. Arther grunted, and turned off the call. He instantly felt a pang of regret for not saying "I love you" back. She would know something's wrong.
He saw her car pull up, and he straightened in his seat. He downed the rest of the coffee, and started to cough. She opened the door and sat down as he cleared his throat. She immediately jumped on the subject, "What's wrong?" Arther started the car and took hold of the wheel. "I'm enlisting." He'd had enough of lying to her, lying about where he was, whom he was with and what he was doing. He wanted her to know the truth. She deserved to know the truth. She nodded, as if what he said was as normal as hello. "What a surprise, as soon as it gets serious…" Arther cut her off. "No, it's not like that." He pulled into a parking space. He slowly turned to her, and looked into her eyes. How he loved those eyes, how many times he's become lost in them, he couldn't tell.
"I love you, you know I do."
She nodded.
"But you KNOW me, I just can't go on without serving a purpose."
Her lower lip started to quiver.
"Enlisting gives me that purpose."
"So I'M not a purpose?"
Arther sighed.
"Don't sigh," she yelled, "Am I a PURPOSE?"
Arther placed his hand on her shoulder. "You're the ONLY purpose right now," he said, "but the way this is going, this war, I feel the need to leave."
She had stopped crying, her face now contorted with emotions. She suddenly calmed, as if the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. She turned and smiled. "I understand Arther, and I know what kind of person you are." He leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back. He kicked the car into gear and drove back down the street.
She kissed him again and got out, went back to her car, and beeped as she drove past him. He'd call when he was leaving.
Worth Fighting For; CH 2: Enlistment
Date: 15 December 2008, 12:11 am
1140, November 13, 2545
UNSC Enlistment Office, Chicago portion of The Zone,
Planet Earth
Arther opened his door and stepped out of the car. The first thing he noticed about the office was the lack of people there. He'd thought that there would be more, he was wrong. The moral level of the public has been dropping since the Harvest incident, and the lack of successful space conflicts, has led the population to believe that they are in fact losing this war. Well they are, they just don't know it yet. The Covenant are slowly, but surely making their way to Earth. The only thing that's stopping them is the Spartans.
Arther pushed on the door to the enlistment office, and stepped inside. "Hi Steve, I didn't know you were working today." said Arther as he sat down at the desk. Steve shuffled some papers and gave him a worried look. "What brings you here Arther?"
"I'm signing up, I want something more."
"The only thing that your going to get here that's more; is your ass blown off."
"Your obsessed with some getting their ass blown off."
"Only because it happened to my granddaddy."
"Well, I don't care, just sign me up."
Steve pushed the sheet of paper across the table, and gave Arther a pen. "I'll just get you your enlistment pay." Arther glanced up from the paper, "What pay?" Steve walked out from the back room with a checkbook, and wrote something on it. He slid it across the table, and Arther picked it up.
$5500, Arther was shocked. He was currently working minimum wage, and this would really help get that ring. Arther signed the paper, and gave it back. Steve muttered something about a quota and put it in a file folder. "Congrats Arther, you leave in one day, we got a shuttle coming in tomorrow. Ten o'clock sharp." Arther hesitated. He'd been expecting more time. Oh well, he thought, I only need to say goodbye to one person. He shook Steve's hand and walked out.
He saw a jewelry store about 50 yards down the street, so he'd stop in on the way by. He started the car and pulled up to it.
Arther knocked on the door, with no answer. He'd use the spare key. He fumbled with his keys and finally found the right one. He slowly opened the door, and eased inside. He heard the water running. Must be in the shower. So he sat down and waited. A half hour passed, and Arther got nervous. Ten more minutes and I'll check on her. Ten minutes passed, and he opened the door to the bathroom.
There was blood everywhere. He picked her up, and saw them. The cuts. He'd cursed himself for not noticing it in the car. The sudden calm then the gentle goodbye. He started to cry. He ran to the phone and called the ambulance.
They were there in minutes. They took her away from him, he hadn't moved from her since he'd called. He was right when he thought it. I'll never see her again. He threw the ring out in the trash, and left.
Arther stumbled along the sidewalk, drunk. He bumped into a man, who swore as he walked away. Arther flipped him off, and kept going. Arther turned to see what the sudden commotion was. The teens were back, and they were harassing the man again.
Arther grabbed a piece of broken concrete and rammed Rings in the back; he lunged sideways and cracked Knifes in the stomach, and pointed at Knuckles.
"If I fuckin' see you around here again, I swear to god I'll kill you!" The teens picked themselves up, and ran off. Arther walked over to the homeless man. "That's two times son, I think I owe you something more than a thank you." Arther shook his head, and motioned for the man to follow.
Arther lead him up the stairs to The Dead End, and walked inside. "Steve, I got a change of clothes in the back, give them to buddy here." Arther handed the rest of the money from the check to the homeless man. "There's a cot in the back," Arther said, "Steve will let you use it." Steve walked out and handed the clothes over, then whispered to Arther as the man went to the washroom, "Who's he?"
"I see him everyday, and I've helped him twice, give him my job and a place to live."
"Why should I?"
"Because it's the decent thing to do."
Steve walked off muttering, but overly accepting the fact that he'd need a new bartender. The homeless man walked out and shook Arther's hand. "Thanks son." Arther nodded and turned to leave. "The names Frank by the way," he said as Arther walked away.
On the way out the door, he heard Steve say something to the man about a job. The wind had picked up, and it had started to snow. Arther started to walk slowly up the street, and watched the cars go by, thinking of the last thing he said to her; "You're the only purpose right now." He was glad he'd said something nice, was glad he'd gotten to say goodbye.
The doors to the shuttle opened and Arther, along with 17 other recruits, stepped inside. Once they were all strapped in, the shuttle took off. A voice crackled over the speakers, "Hang on folks, this might get bumpy." The voice sounded cool, like a surfer. The shuttle broke atmosphere and picked up speed. "We'll be on board "Reach to the Stars" in about 20 minutes folks."
A man was already up, floating in zero gee. He floated over to Arther. "Hi, my names Charles, but you can call me Charlie." Arther reached up and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Charlie, the names Arther." He looked older than Arther, maybe 27, with a goatee and short shaved hair. He had bright green eyes, and when he smiled, his cheeks puffed a little. Arther could get to like him. "So why'd you sign up Arther?"
"I wanted more out of life, this seemed like the place."
Charlie laughed, "That's a pretty good reason!"
"So what about you?"
"They said it was either this or three years."
"What for?"
"They said I held up a jewelry store, which I didn't."
"Why three years then?"
"Because my lawyers an asshole, said I pleaded guilty when he didn't even ask me, I think he might have been paid to do it."
"Sucks to be you."
Charlie laughed again; he had a friendly laugh, "Damn straight brother!" Across the cabin, Arther locked eyes with a woman. She has nice eyes. They were hazel, with a bit of blue splashed in. He unbuckled himself and floated over. "Hi, I'm Arther," he held out his hand. She looked at him, sized him up. "The names Ashley, nice to meet you." She sounded very proper, and had a sort of natural beauty to her; she reminded Arther of Meredith. He tried to strike up a conversation, "So why'd you sign up?"
"Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"What about now that you're going?"
"The fact that there's two woman on this shuttle, and the rest are men, not to good."
"I see…"
"Don't take it personally, I just thought there would be more women in service."
Arther turned to float away, "There's probably more, just not here." He floated back to his seat, and strapped in. Charlie was already getting excited, while most of the recruits onboard looked nervous. Sure, Arther had been off planet before, but not for this. He wondered where they were going to be trained at; if it would be hard, and most of all, if he could make it. He didn't want to wash out.
He glanced in Ashley's direction, and noticed her looking at him; he blushed a little and turned away. He looked back and she smiled, he smiled back. Hey, this might not be that bad.
Worth Fighting For; CH 3: Onboard
Date: 22 December 2008, 7:37 pm
I just want to wish everyone on HBO a very merry christmas and a VERY happy new year.
0930, November 17, 2545 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Frigate Reach To The Stars, UNKNOWN SLIPSTREAM SPACE TRANSIT
UNKNOWN SLIPSTREAM SPACE TRANSIT
Arther had refused Cryogenic Sleep for the first week of transit; he wanted to walk around a bit. The only other recruits who refused, were Charlie and Ashley, who overheard Arther refuse, and decided to tag along. Arther rolled off the cot and looked over at Charlie. "I'm hungry, want to go grab a bite?" Charlie looked over from his magazine and nodded. They got up and headed towards the door.
Ashley stepped in just as they got to the door. "Where are you two going?" Charlie glanced over and in the gruffest voice possible stated, "Getting some chow." Arther rolled his eyes, four days on this ship and Charlie was already speaking with Marine mannerisms. Ashley turned through the door with them and followed.
Arther felt awkward walking through this ship, he preferred ground beneath his feet, and knowing that this thing could lose power at any time, bugged him. Ground couldn't lose power, so it was comfortable for him. Ashley and Charlie on the other hand, came from families where all they did was drive freighters around, so they felt as at home on a ship as they did on solid ground. Charlie was even considering "Zero Gravity Training" when they got to Reach. Arther had heard about Reach, it was one of the largest UNSC off planet military command posts. That's where they'd train, where they'd learn to be killers.
They pushed through the crowd into the mess hall. Charlie was yet again, the first to dart to the food line. Arther struggled through the crowd, and Ashley followed behind him. Charlie got a burger, again. Arther got a garden salad, a chicken burger and a soda, while Ashley got two burgers and a beer.
Arther liked Ashley, she wasn't your normal everyday girl, and she didn't take anything from anyone. One Marine walked up and grabbed her ass once; she turned and punched him in the face. Knocked out a couple teeth. The guy got a write up on his personal record for harassment, but it was one of Major Silva's boys, so there was no real charge.
Charlie was your happy go lucky guy, and Arther liked that. Charlie was the one to crack a joke at the most silent times and break tension. But he wasn't using that to hide anything; he wasn't a wimp, though he did look it. He proved them wrong though. When in the gym one day, a Marine – An ODST to be exact – challenged Charlie to a boxing match. To sum it up, the ODST still has the bandages. When Charlie bragged about Golden Gloves, he wasn't lying. After they ate, they went back to the troops quarters.
Charlie stood and walked off towards the showers, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere without me." Arther grunted and looked over towards the door. "Hey, Arther!" He turned in the direction of Ashley's voice. "Yeah?" She stood and strolled over to his bunk, and sat down on the corner.
"I've been looking over our squad's roster, and we have a pretty bad-ass sergeant looking over us."
Arther sat up, "We haven't even trained, and they've put us in a squad already?"
"Yeah, they want us doing immediate squad training once we get planet side."
"Oh, alright. So what about this sergeant?"
"Sergeant Isak J. Howe, AKA "Howitzer"… that doesn't sound to good. He's been serving since the Harvest campaign, was one of the first to participate in a search and destroy on a Covenant general during the battle of Paris IV, and served alongside a Sergeant Avery Johnson during said campaign as well. Helped capture a crate of plasma grenades, used 'em all."
Arther whistled, long and low. "Sounds bad-ass." Ashley nodded and stood. "Well Arty, I'm going to the gym, I'll see you later." She walked around his bunk, and he turned to watch her leave. His eyes followed her out the door.
Charlie walked out of the bathroom, dressed in his fatigues. He looked at Arther. "Did she just call you…Arty?" Arther slowly nodded. Charlie shuffled over and leaned down next to Arther's face, "Your in love." Arther stood and looked at him, his face pained, "No…" Charlie laughed and turned, "Why so defensive, Arty?" Arther laughed and sat down on his bunk. He pulled his boots out from under the bed, and started to lace them up. "Y'know something Charles, I'm not in love, and it will be mighty hard for me to fall in love again." Charlie turned and eyed Arther, furrowing his brow. "Why buddy?"
Arther stood and walked to the door. "I don't know you that well, I can't trust you with it." The door slide open and he left. "C'mon Charlie, time to go get Cryoed."
He was somewhere, but he couldn't tell where. Somewhere in between. A far away place, where nothing seemed to matter.
A face, someone pretty. The smell of barbequed ribs, and perfume. A woman in a wide brimmed straw hat, and a man in a wrinkled short sleeve shirt and loose jeans.
USER COMMAND= Purge Cryo Tank(s) 70-80
ECRYPTION CODE= T8N90
LOG INSERT= 78k#23k#
AI= LOENIDAS
PROGRESS= 74.45% COMPLETE
A wind, forces the diners inside. The woman runs clutching her sundress and her hat, while the young boy and older man rush to get the food and napkins inside. A candle falls, and catches fire to wallpaper. The drapes on the doors burn, preventing escape. A scream, the sound of sirens and the smell of burning flesh.
ALERT> ERRATIC HEART BEAT AND PULSE RATE IN POD 73, CORRECTING…
>ANOMALY CORRECTED AND NOTED. ENSURE FURTHER EXAMINATION IS GIVEN, INJECT SUBJECT WITH 15% DOSE OF MEDICAL RESTORATION CHEMICAL #43690.
Arther struggled up out of the tube, and started to cough. He coughed until he could spit the phlegm onto the deck; it tasted like lime-flavored mucus.
He looked to his right, then to his left. Charlie tried to stand, but shakily sat back down.
Glancing to his right again, saw her pull herself out of the tube. Sure, he'd seen woman naked before, but for some odd reason, looking at her standing there, didn't seem right. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She turned and walked past him. He watched her turn to the door leading to the showers. Charlie sat back on one arm, and looked at him. "You are too in love."
Arther stood and shook his head. It hurt; it felt as if someone had filled his head full of helium. He squeezed he neck muscles, helping the sensation pass. "Give it up Charlie." He walked off to the showers without another word to his friend.
He emerged from the change room, freshly washed, shaved and clothed. The fatigues had been pressed, and the creases showed nicely. He look down towards the benches and noticed a green duffel bag, with his name stenciled in white along the side. He hurried to pick it up, and then ran to catch up with the group, currently heading towards the general direction of the hanger. He placed his hands on the shoulders of Charlie and Ashley, "So, how'd you enjoy your little nap?"
Charlie sighed and looked at Arther. "I forgot to take off a bandage, and now its all raw and whatnot." Ashley laughed at him, "That's why you remember to take it off." Charlie scowled at her, but that quickly turned to a laugh as he stepped through the door to the hanger bay. Arther glanced at the two Pelicans lined up. On each side, painted in white paint, were the signatures "A1" and "A2", their respective squads.
Arther threw his duffel onto the Pelican, and looked at his four new squad mates. To add to the three (Arther Conlin, Ashley Peterson and Charlie Mitchell), there was Peter King, Timothy Ranke, Raphael DeMonte, and Andrew Brightling. Arther nodded, and hoped that none of these men were assholes. He hardly knew any of the four except for Raphael, who he'd bumped into at The Dead End a few times. He walked up the ramp into the Pelican, and strapped in. Charlie sat to his right, and Ashley to his left. "Alright folks," it was the same voice from before, "Get strapped in, next stop Reach." Arther held on, as the Pelican broke free from the pull of the ship, and looked out a side window. He caught his first glimpse of the place he'd be calling home for the next 5 months. REACH.
Worth Fighting For; CH 3: Boot
Date: 23 February 2009, 4:21 pm
1001, November 30, 2545 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B, AKA "Painland",
Planet Reach
"Hello ladies, this area you are currently in is "Painland", and I am your Sergeant, Isak Howe," the man was of average height, African descent and had a very thin face, a scar ran from his right temple down to the right corner of his mouth. The most unusual feature, were his eyes. They didn't seem to blink. "You will address me as , and nothing else, at least not until you are real soldiers, then you can call me, whatever the fuck you scrawny sons of bitches want!" A man down the line raised his hand. "What is it?" Howe yelled at him.
The man had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Have we ever met sir?" he yelled, "You look a lot like my mother!" He was obviously trying to make a joke, no one laughed. The sergeant walked up. "No, we have not met," He was a hairs breath away from the mans nose, " I would know, I always tend to remember little scrawny bastards!" The man stood a little straighter and his jaw tensed.
Howe walked to the end of the line, and looked at Arther. "I like the looks of you, what's your name?" Arther stood straight and yelled, "Recruit Arther H. Conlin sir!" Howe nodded and walked away. "Okay ladies, lets double time it to the playground, don't worry, it wont take long!" His voice was different, as if he was overly enjoying himself. The drill sergeants brandished stun batons, and herded the recruits along.
Well it did take long, 7 miles to be exact. And by the time the recruits reached the playground, they were winded.
The playground was not what the recruits had expected. Of course they didn't expect swing sets and slides, but not this. It consisted of sandbags, low dirt walls, trenches, and a big hill at the end with a bell on top.
"Okay, get into your squads," yelled Howe. Arther walked to the front of his squad. "Alright guys, I'm not trying to play leader, but we most likely have to work together here." They all nodded, and a smile broke across Charlie's face. They all turned towards the sergeant, who had pulled out a pistol. "Maggots, this is your standard UNSC sidearm." He walked a little closer to the smart mouth from earlier.
He pointed it at his chest and pulled the trigger. Red blossomed from his shirt. The recruits yelled and ducked. "And THAT recruits, is TTR. It works with Nano-fibers you have in your fatigues, and it stiffens you right up," A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, "We have a sniper out there, and he has TTR rounds. You on the other hand, have nothing." Arther looked back at his squad, the only one who looked nervous was Timothy. "You, need to ring that bell, now move maggots!"
Arther ran up and slid behind the first set of sandbags. His squad was right behind him. "Okay we need to move one at a time to cover, I don't want anyone getting hit." Charlie moved around to the edge of the sandbags.
A recruit from the other squad ran out, winced and fell backwards, TTR spattered over his shirt, and down his stomach. Charlie looked out, spotted cover, and ran. He made it. Arther tapped Ashley on the shoulder, and she too ran. She made it as well. Timothy slinked up, darted around the sandbags, and tripped as he ran. A round caught him in the shoulder, and another in the gut. He fell to the ground. Arther reached out and dragged him back. A drill instructor walked up and waved a baton over him, the fabric slackened. They pulled Timothy off to the side. Raphael, and Andrew darted out at the same time. They made it as well. Arther looked up, and saw the muzzle flash. He ducked back. To his left he spotted the pistol Howe had set on a stump. Arther ran, grabbed it and ran to his squad.
"Okay, I know where the guy is, I'm going to draw his fire, hopefully keep him pinned down while you run." The squad nodded. Arther ducked out and fired at the sniper, the shots went wild, but no fire came. Bet you weren't expecting this. Arther crouched behind a log. He stood and brought the sights down onto the sniper. He pulled the trigger and saw a blossom of red; the rifle fell down the hill. He ran to catch up with his squad, and he rang the bell.
Howe walked up the hill. "Get up there and give our boy a hand," ordered Howe. A drill instructor jogged up and pulled the sniper away. "Good job, better than the other squad anyway." Arther looked down the hill and saw the other squad. They only had two people left, and each had an arm or a leg-hanging limp, courtesy of TTR. "I was waiting for someone to do that, you're the first Arther," said Howe, "Nice shot." With that, he turned and walked away.
Arther looked around, and couldn't but help feel proud for his squad. They all gave him a slap on the back. Howe turned and yelled towards the group, "Lets go for a jog, its time to hit the sack!" Ashley ran down the hill, followed by Charlie, Andrew and Raphael. Arther took off after them
Three months. It seemed like years. Arther had joined the UNSC three months ago, and hasn't looked back yet. Today was yet another – of many – TTR squad runs. Arther pulled the charging lever on his MA5B assault rifle (standard issue for UNSC infantry) and drilled a burst into the hem of sandbags surrounding the base of the bunker.
The game was Capture the Flag, and he didn't plan on losing. "Charlie," Arther yelled, "Suppressing fire, give me and the squad some cover!" Charlie nodded and leaned around the 'Hog, and opened up. A yell, and some of the fire stopped. "Alright squad," said Arther as he stood and turned around the 'Hog, "MOVE!"
Ashley sidled past him in a low hunch, firing in short bursts, with Raphael and Andrew trailing behind her. Tim stood and tapped Arther on the shoulder; Arther started to move. He fired a short burst at the prone form of a sniper. TTR puffed, and that fire stopped. Arther un-slung his sniper rifle and crouched.
He looked down the scope, sighted on a soldiers chest, and pulled the trigger. He dropped like a stone. A scream to his left broke his attention, and caused him to turn and look. Ashley lay face up, with a TTR smear on her helmet. He ran over, and knelt next to her.
He scowled and called Timothy – the squads other sniper – to him. "Tim, haul her out of here," Arther ordered, "And give me and Raphael some cover, we're goin' for that flag!" Tim nodded, and pulled Ashley away.
Arther turned to Andrew, "Give us some cover and try to stagger it from Charlie's, we don't want you reloadin' at the same time." Andrew nodded, and slammed a fresh magazine into the rifle with a satisfying clack.
Arther looked at Raphael and nodded. "NOW!" Charlie and Tim opened up, and TTR blossomed along the sandbag trim. Raphael vaulted the sandbags and ran towards a downed tree. Arther slid behind the tree as well.
"Okay," Arther said, "We need that flag, or Howe will have our asses." Raphael nodded, and that glazed looked dropped through his eyes. It was the look he got when he set his mind on one thing. There was a lull in the suppression fire, and Raphael took his chance. He hadn't looked ahead though. A lull in fire meant the other squad could fire back.
Three members of the opposite squad stood, and sighted on Raphael. A full-auto cloud of TTR rounds engulfed him, and when the cloud dissipated; Raphael lay twisted in the dirt. Then the fire picked up again.
Arther threw his MA5B and sniper rifle on the ground, and un-holstered his HE pistol. He popped up, shot a man in the head, and took off towards the flag.
He reached his hand out blindly, felt the cold of the metal pole, pulled up, and stumbled back towards Raphael. He grabbed the "wounded" man by the collar and started to drag him. Two sharp pains in his left leg, and his movement slowed. Then one in his left arm. He dropped the flag, and fell to the dirt.
Arther pushed Raphael in front of him, and grasped the end of the flagpole. TTR kicked up dirt around him, painting the scene a dreary red. His fatigues were hardening fast. Another sharp pain in his back and he started to seize up. TTR disabled the extremities, as much as need be. The hits to the arms and legs weren't necessarily "lethal".
But any to the sternum or back, and you were in trouble. Arther pulled himself to his knees and leaned into the throw. The pole twirled javelin style, and dug into the dirt next to Charlie, who jumped back. Arther fell over top of Raphael.
Charlie climbed the side of the Warthog and shoved the end of the pole into the hole in the bed of the LRV.
Arther stiffly fell down on his bunk, and let out a sigh. "We did good today," he said, "Just watch your fire, and make sure you have more than one man firing at a time. Call "reload" when you switching mag's, and be in communication with your other squad members." Charlie stood and laughed, "We've heard it twenty times Arty." Tim looked up from his magazine and flashed a smile, then went back to reading.
Arther looked around. Raphael stretched his legs and arms and almost rolled off the bed, and Andrew started to laugh. Raphael was a small guy, maybe 5'11 and 120 pounds, and along with Andrew (6'3 and 203 pounds of muscle), was the joker of the squad. Timothy was a different story. He'd first enlisted to prove to his dad that he wasn't gay, but now his dad just thought he was a creep for enlisting. Timothy didn't like that all that much.
Frankly, Timothy didn't like much of anything. He hardly laughed, but when he did, people laughed with him. He looked like a wimp, but when the shit goes down, there might not be a better person to depend on, except maybe Howe. Arther slumped back into his pillow, and drifted off to sleep.
Worth Fighting For; CH 5: Mr. Delrey
Date: 19 March 2009, 2:04 pm
1100, December 11, 2545 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B, AKA "Painland",
Planet Reach
Arther stood stark at the firing range. Slowly, methodically drilling bursts into the 30 yard target. The sight on the BR-55 established an automatic uplink to his HUD. This addition makes for much more efficient targeting, and a bigger overall killzone by not limiting his view to that of the basic sights.
He felt a snap on the side of his head, someone had pulled on his ear muff. He slowly took them off.
"Howe wants us in for briefing." said Ashley as she turned away. He started to speak, but shrugged, placed the battle rifle on the counter and walked out after Ashley.
"Why would he want us for briefing, we get out of here in a week. Surely he doesn't have another training mission for us." This was less of a question, and more of a statement. Ashley let out a humorless laugh, "Yeah sure, and pigs fly."
Howe flicked off the lights, and the projector snapped on. Within seconds, the AI Leonidas flickered into existance next to the table. He was as much a shadow of his person of choosing as any sculpture or painting. Sword strapped to his waist, red cloak clasped neatly around his neck, and a shield upon his back. If any AI were to pick such a noble figure, it would have to be Leonidas. Howe walked to the front of the room and turned towards the squad, "Now, I know your getting out of here in a week. So your probably wondering why I have you in the briefing room. Well, consider this mission – if completed – an early graduation."
"Seems like the UNSC Office of Naval Intelligence has a little job for you. After constant monitoring of your progress, they have chosen you and you only for this. Seems that Delrey Weapons and Armour are selling their wares to an Innie group, situated somewhere on Reach. We don't know the exact location, so we're going for the next best thing. We need you to take down Delrey," they all sat a little straighter, " We also have very little information on the builiding itself, which may strike you as odd, but I'm sure its just those ONI spooks keeping it out of our hands."
"The objectives are as follows; Infiltrate and eliminate Roger Delrey, destroy the manufacturing equipment of all weapons and armour, and eliminate all threats. You are under strict orders to harm no civilians and take prisoner those that surrender, if they put up a fight... neutralize 'em."
"As for your loadout... well you get to chose that. Arther, come here. You've been promoted to Corporal, congratulations. As for the rest of your squad, its Private First Class. Corporal, your to take Leo," the AI scowled at the mention of his shortened name, "Consider him your on the spot information station." Arther stood stark straight, "Attention." The squad jumped up and saluted. Howe looked them over. He nodded. They were ready.
Arther adjusted the gloves on his battle armour. For this mission, they were outfitted with the standard UNSC Marine Issue Battle Gear, with a few improvements. A fusion cell battery fitted into the back plate of the armour, encased in a double layer of polymer alloy, needed to run the crystaline layer housing Leonidas. The helmets were upgraded to UNSC ODST standard issue (coloured grey), for better protection, with "basic" hardware to run the processing for the AI, and a slot in the back to insert the chip. The plating covering the body was also thickened by 1 cm, now efficiant enough to stop a battle rifle round.
Tim hefted a matte black sniper rifle. An upgraded version of the C44 long barreled semi automatic sniper rifle, with firing settings for single shot and full auto. A established link to his HUD gave him a choice of scope view or reticle. He also chose a extended barrel HE Pistol.
Charlie picked up a SMG and a grenade belt. To his left, Ashley took a SMG as well and being efficient with explosives had slung over her shoulder a Det Pack. This would be used to destroy the manufacturing materials. Raphael, Andrew and Arther took SMG as well. "Everyone but Tim bring extra .45 caliber rounds so we can swap if need be. Lets hope we don't, a firefight that big would pretty much end the mission anyways." They all nodded. With a nudge Arther clicked the chin button on his helmet, and a COM link established to the squad. "We all ready?" Again, they nodded. Arther turned and walked out towards the Pelican. He sat down, strapped himself in. The squad followed suit. Timothy however, latched his load-bearing harness to a latch on the floor, and positioned himself at a crouch near the hatch. Arther keyed the COM again, "Tim, you see anyone on the roof, you drop 'em. Is that clear?" He gave Arther a thumbs up and returned to his rifle. Arther looked around. They didn't seem nervous. But could they knowingly kill another human being?
The Pelican hummed over the small barracks and buildings lining this section of the industrial compound on Reach. Two quick nudges of the COM button, two blasts of static. His squad racked charging levers and double checked gear. They all stood, clipping their load bearing harness' to clips on the roof. Artheer keyed the COM, "Okay, I want to keep this silent once we get inside, hand signals only. Tim, you see that balconey on the top floor," Tim nodded, "Once I step out and give you the thumbs up, your to drop in there. You will not be coming down the roof entry way. You are to give us cover through the windows, the Pelican will hover and you will get off. Understand?" Tim racked a round into the chamber, nodded. Leaning forward, Arther looked out the drop hatch. Two armed guards stood on the roof of the building. He tapped Tim on the shoulder.
Ralph consulted his data pad, "Hey Mark, that Pelican isn't on one of my flight routes." Mark turned, his name tag had a serial number on it, 25. "I dunno Ralph, you might want to leave it alone you dumb bast-," a round tore through his chest, and he stumbled back clawing at the growing dark stain. Another bullet caught him in the throat and he fell, his eyes wide. Startled, Ralph turned and fired his rifle from the hip, scrambling for cover. A bullet caught him in the side, and another through his armpit, piercing his heart. He fell watching five soldiers jump out of its bay.
Arther shot the man with the throat wound in the head, he stopped gurgling. Dont think Arther, just do. The voice in his head justified the means. The squad stacked up along the left side of the roof entrance. Ashley stepped back and put a round thru the dead bolt. A swift kick and if fell backwards, into the stairwell. Flicking on his infared, Arther spotted 3 men moving up the the roof.
They were armed, 3 cold objects were slung over their backs. He turned to Raphael and Andrew, and motioned them in the door. As they moved up, they threaded silencers over their SMGs. Arther cursed himself. Should of remembered. He slid his into place. Slowly, he moved in the stairwell, Ashley was poised leaning over the railing, Andrew and Raphael were on the top steps and Charlie stood with his back out the door. Their weapons were at the ready.
Arther tapped Ashley, Andrew and Raphael three times on their shoulders. The kill signal. The men came into view and they looked up, shocked to see five soliders armed to the teeth on the top steps. Ashley, Andrew and Raphael fired.
Three shots, three hits. Two fell with head wounds, obviously dead, but the third clutched a gut wound and was fumbling with his holster strap for his pistol.
Arthers rifle coughed and a three round burst caught the man in the chest. He slumped backwards against the wall. Arther turned to his squad, put his his index and middle fingers to eye level and split them apart. This was the signal to spilt up. Ashley, Raphael and Andrew took off down the stairs, while Arther and Charlie headed back up to the roof.
Pulling a bolt from his harness, Charlie drove it into the lip on the side of the roof and tied a rope to it. He did the same for Arther. They jumped back off the lip, and crashed through the top floor window, rifles at the ready. They looked up.
Five armed men stood with rifles leveled at their chests. Delrey looked up from his papers. "Ah, welcome. I hope you find the circumstances of our meeting, how shall I say, acceptable?"
Worth Fighting For; CH 6: Almost
Date: 1 May 2009, 12:55 am
1305, December 11, 2545 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Industrial Compound 56095-C, Delrey Building,
Planet Reach
Delrey cocked his head and spoke, "Now please, I'd appreciate it if you lowered, better yet, dropped your weapons." Charlie shifted, not lowering his rifle. Next to him Arther placed his SMG on the floor, his hand came back up, to rest near the grip of his pistol. Charlie gave a hesitant glance, upon seeing Arther nod for him to drop his as well, he too dropped his SMG.
"Now that we are more... comfortable... I think I have to introduce myself. My name is Roger Delrey. But of course you know that already seeing as your here to kill me," Arther started to speak, but was cut off, "Oh yes, I know. Don't think I didnt see this coming. But where are my manners, sit," Shifting his feet, Arther stood still, as did Charlie. Delrey slammed a fist on the table and stood up, "I said sit!"
Moving forward, Arther and Charlie sat down in two plush chairs in front of the desk. A crackle in Arthers helmet made him start. "It's okay, its me Leonidas. This is encrypted, you have nothing to worry about." Arther settled down into his seat. Behind him, he sensed two men move the SMGs. "Tim is still up in the Pelican. Tell me when and he'll make the shot." Arther grunted an acknowledgement.
Lighting a cigar, Delrey leaned back in his chair. "Now, I'm assuming your wondering as to why I am selling to these rebels. Its a simple matter really. Freedom. A world, without government. A world without constriction. They wont control how many children we make, what jobs to take. Think of it like this. If we were free we could be sitting in our homes right now. Not at this table, with guns pointed at each other." He chuckled to himself, for some reason he found this funny.
Before he could speak again, Arther cut him off. "Well, I don't seem to think you or your men have guns pointed at you," he said glancing around, "But I get the point."
Delreys eyes flashed. "Don't get smart boy."
A round tore a divot out of the wood next to Ashleys head, and she dove for cover. Sliding another clip into place, she popped up and shot two rounds into the mans chest, he sprawled back and landed in a heap. She stood and motioned for Andrew and Raphael to follow.
One of the men on the ground reached up and brushed Raphaels leg. He looked down. "Y'know, being a medic and all... this doesnt look to serious. Think we should take him in?"
Peering around a corner, Ashley looked back. Glancing at the man, she shook her head. Cocking his head Raphael stated, "Well, he wont bleed out."
In two strides Ashley had walked over and pulled out her pistol. She pulled the trigger and the round thumped into his chest. Looking up, her eyes cold, "Now he will."
"Touche." Raphael reloaded his SMG and moved next to Ashley. "C'mon Andrew, haul ass." Clambering past a mail trolley Andrew fumbled with the charging lever on his weapon. He slammed against the wall, his bulk cracking it slightly.
Pulling a fresh magazine out of her chest pouch, Ashley slid it into place with a satisfying clack, she peeked around the corner. Dropping to a knee she leveled her SMG at the top of a cubicle. A man slowly looked over the top of the cubicle and she squeezed the trigger twice. His head popped apart.
"Raphael, Andrew. Clear that office." The heavy thud of boots reverberated around the deathly quiet floor. A crack of an SMG and the sound of a door splintering. "Clear." Called Andrews voice from inside the room.
They walked out reloading their weapons. A crackle on the radio, "Ashley its Leonidas. Delrey has Arther and Charlie at gunpoint in his office. Arther wont let me tell Tim to take the shot. Scans say there are five guards. Two on either side of the door, one behind Delrey to the left and two behind Arther and Charlie. Get up there, now."
Havin' a god damn field day up here, Tim thought to himself, Half the fuckin' industrial park are knockin' on the doorstep. The Pelican circled the front of the building, and Tim caught sight of Arther again.
Delrey was still talking, and Tim was gauging his reaction – heated conversation – and it didn't look to be much of a hazard. A round pinged off the airframe of the ship and Tim sighted in on a guards chest. Pulled the trigger. The round tore in, leaving a growing dark stain on the fabric.
Fuckin' bullshit this is. Pulled the trigger again. A round cracked through a mans shin. He sprawled forward. Tim scowled, Why not send the whole damn regiment in. Make it easier for us. Another squeeze and the man stopped writhing.
Squeezing against the frame of the Pelican, Tim slapped another magazine into place. His COM crackled on, "Its me, Leonidas."
"Whats the situation Leo?"
"Ashley, Andrew and Raphael are headed to the top floor. Arther still won't let you fire. I was in contact with howe. He said once Ashley, Andrew and Raphael breach the room to take out Delrey and the guard behind the desk. Don't call me Leo."
"Why not."
"Because I said so. Do you acknowledge your orders."
"Its a nice name though. Yes I do."
"No. Okay, I'll send conformation to Howe."
"Thanks Leo."
A high pitched wail broke through the COM. Tim slammed the COM button so hard he split his chin open. What a fuckin' JACKASS.
"Brandy?" Delrey held out a glass of amber liquid. It sloshed in the low set glass. Arther didn't move. "Don't worry, I didn't poison it."
"I wont take any chances." Arther shifted slightly; so his pistol was a bit easier to grab. "Delrey, I hope you realize you wont be getting out of here alive. Even if you do, they'll just send someone else to do this." His faceplate cleared., and he glared at Delrey. "What your doing, your not fighting the good fight. Your killing innocent people everyday. Every fucking day. And you want to know something else?"
Delrey chuckled, "What might that be my friend?" He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table. "Are you going to cliche this? Maybe tell me your here to kill me, jump up and put a thirty two caliber slug through my brain?"
The hairs on the back of Arthers neck tingled, and sweat dripped down from his nose. Looking Delrey in the eyes he said, "Do it."
Delreys eyebrows knotted. He tilted his head, "Do wha–?" Tims rifle sounded. The round cracked into his forhead and his chair tipped backwards. Arther pulled his pistol from its holster and pulled a bead on the guard behind the desk. A pull of the trigger and blood blossomed from his neck, to splatter along the wall.
A quartet of rifle cracks sounded through the office. The two guards behind Arther dropped, victim to Tims expert shooting. Arther bellowed into his COM, " Ashley, Rafe, Andrew. Get the fuck down to the manufacturing plant and take out those machines. Delreys dead."
Charlie pushed his chair backwards and rolled over to his SMG. He flipped it up and drilled five rounds a peice into the guards by the door. They dropped like stones. Turning around he saw Arther sprinting to the balcony. He jogged out and helped Tim down from the Pelican. "Welcome to the party."
Tim grinned back, "Hell, you guys dont know what you've been missin'." He switched his rifle to automatic and drilled a three round burst into a writhing guard. "God damn I hate this."
Arther turned and grimaced in a we-all-do kind of way. He motioned for the door and they jogged out to the hall. "Okay, looks like were almost done here. Lets go."
|
